The Chronicles of the 8th Dimension - Limited Edition Box Set (4 Books): A Supernatural Thriller Box Set

by Carissa Andrews

  Blake ushers me out of the study room and back to the kitchen. Aiden’s at the breakfast bar, snarfing up the last of his nachos as only a college kid can but looks up long enough to do a double take.

  “Something you need?” he says through a mouthful.

  Nodding, Blake scratches at the back of his neck and says, “Yeah, you got some time this evening to go over some of the stuff we found on the pedophile ring? Diana here would like to join us after all.”

  “I thought we decided to table the whole thing—”

  “I know what we decided. But I think Diana wants to check things over herself and maybe we can go from there,” Blakes says.

  The two of them exchange odd glances, but Aiden shoves the last bite into his mouth and stands up.

  “Let’s do it,” he says, walking to the dishwasher and tossing his plate and fork inside.

  Blake leads the way back to the super-techie room, with me following close on his heels, and Aiden just behind me.

  “Hang on, I need to grab something,” Blake says, opening the door on the right, just before we get there.

  The last time I was here, Blake ushered me out rather quickly and I’d give my left foot to know what he’s hiding.

  “What’s this room for?” I ask, peering around the door.

  The lights remain off as he walks into the space.

  “Nothing, just go with Aiden. I’ll be there in a minute,” he says, quickly walking back to me and pulling the door in tight.

  “You know, it would probably help you find whatever you’re looking for if you turned on the lights—” I say, slipping under his arm before he can close the door any further. I flip on the light switch and gasp.

  Blake twists around, immediately flipping the light switch back off.

  “You need to go, now” he practically growls, grabbing hold of my arm. “This is private.”

  Light may be sparse through the one large window, but I certainly caught an eyeful.

  Every inch of the walls are covered in drawings. Some in pencil, some charcoal. Big, little, massive—they’re like a collage in an attempt to transform the room into a cavern or something. Some drawings look like rocky walls, others are macro impressions of rocks, knives, blood. The blood is the only thing done in color. It’s all got a very macabre vibe.

  “What is all of this?”

  Blake’s lips are pressed into a thin line—his eyes wide.

  “I said follow Aiden,” he practically shrieks, grabbing for my wrist. “Are you hard of hearing?”

  Sidestepping his clutches, I take another step into the room. A handful of drawings catch my attention. They have the strange symbol on them, the one from my … I don’t know … dream? Premonition?

  Stepping over to them, I can’t help but stare.

  “Do you know what this symbol means? Why—why have you drawn this? I mean, these drawings are yours, right? You’ve created these?” I say, my eyes widening as I touch the largest version with my pointer finger.

  Taking a deep breath, Blake walks to his desk, opening a drawer and slapping a folder on top of the desk.

  “Yes, I drew them. I don’t know what the symbol means—not really. The closest I can figure is it’s Greek. I keep seeing it in my dreams and it—well, all of this has freaked me out ever since I was a kid. My therapist—yeah, yeah, I had a therapist—she encouraged me to start drawing it all when it bothered me. I guess I just kept going. It helps me keep track of how often the dreams come about.”

  “Fascinating,” I say, mesmerized by the sea of pictures.

  If I had to draw every time I had a premonition—or a strange dream, I’d need a mansion the size of Detroit.

  Despite the low light from the windows, I walk from one drawing to the next, unable to take my eyes off of them. There’s something eerily familiar in the decor—the cavernesque quality, as well as the overall vibe.

  “The other night—well, I suppose it’s been over a week now—I had a dream. It was the night I came home after we met—and saved Esther. Anyway, I saw this symbol, too. I wasn’t sure if it was a dream, or a premonition. Sometimes they can get all jumbled together and hard to decipher. But this—this tells me it was no ordinary dream. It was obviously tied to you in some way.”

  “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t bet on it. You can’t read me—so don’t pretend to start now.”

  “Not fair,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m telling you the truth—”

  Aiden pokes his head in the room after a few minutes. “Hey, guys … you coming? I have everything up and ready.”

  “Yeah, we were just leaving,” Blake says, grabbing the manilla folder and taking me by the arm.

  Still stunned by the imagery in the small office, I allow Blake to lead me down the hallway to the tech room where Aiden has all of his computer stuff set up.

  Even though I’ve been through the evolution and very inklings of computers and technology—there’s something about it I simply don’t trust. Not that I’m not grateful for those who can wield it, though.

  Aiden watches us enter the room and gives us a moment to get situated on the chairs opposite his. The monitors behind him each have their own thing going on—some are static, others display constant movement. Truth be told, it’s rather distracting.

  “Alright, so here’s where I think we should start,” Aiden begins. “I’ve tracked the pedophile ring to a group operating out of Europe. Based on the images from the Range Rover’s cameras, I was able to track the guys who shot at you and pulled up some of their aliases. The good news is, I got faces to go along with the false names. But the problem I’ve run into is my facial recognition software caught a glimpse of them at the airport.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing? I mean, did you let the police know?” I say, leaning forward and placing my elbows on my knees.

  “In theory, that would have been smart, had I been keeping a watch on it. Unfortunately, Blake had already decided to let things go. I literally just got this info as I was waiting for the two of you.”

  “So how long ago were they at the airport?” Blake interjects.

  “A day and a bit,” Aiden shrugs.

  “So they could be anywhere by now,” I sigh, leaning back in my chair and glaring at the ceiling.

  “Well, not anywhere. I mean, I was able to track the flight. I have a general idea—but I don’t know where within the vicinity without a little more research.”

  “Where were they headed?” Blake says, mimicking my movement and leaning forward.

  “Italy,” he says, making a face.

  “So?” I say.

  “Tickets to Rome run between $1500 and $2400. Per person,” Aiden says. “That’s not including rental cars, hotels, and other stuff.”

  “So?” I repeat, eyeing them both.

  Blake scoffs. “It’ll take me a few days to pull together that kinda cash for that big of a withdrawal on my debit card. My bank has a waiting policy,” he says leaning back. “Unfortunately, I can’t magic it out of nowhere—and before you ask, no, I don’t have credit cards. They’re shit. They’re just corporate control meant to keep people down.”

  I shoot him a sideways glance.

  “I’ll pay,” I say, shrugging. “My bank has no problem letting money leave my account.”

  Aiden’s eyes widen, as he looks from me to Blake.

  Blake’s eyebrows scrunch, along with his face.

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard yet. I wasn’t trying to get you to pay.”

  I roll my eyes. “Oh come on. You’re not one of those macho guys who feels emasculated when a woman pays, are you?”

  Blake shifts in his chair.

  “It’s—it’s not that. I just don’t think it’s fair, is all.”

  “Do you want to find these guys, or not?” I say, standing up and crossing my arms.

  “Well, sure—but—”

  “Good, then it’s settled. Aiden,” I say, turning to him, “can you pull up those ticket details fo
r me? Let’s get tickets booked.”

  “Holy shit, this is all happening a little fast. Don’t you think?” Blake says, standing up and walking to my side.

  “No, I don’t. These guys are on the run and the only way we’re gonna track them down is to get our asses on a plane. I know the area, I spent a few—er, a year in Italy. Their trail will run dry—and even with my gifts, I won’t be able to locate them—which defeats damn near the entire purpose of this.”

  “If this is all about showing me you really are psychic—you don’t have to do this. I mean, that’s a ridiculous amount of money to put on the line just to prove me wrong,” Blake says.

  “Then I better be right,” I say, cocking my head to the side. “Besides, if it really freaks you out, you can pay me back.”

  Aiden’s blue eyes flit back and forth between me and Blake like a pingpong ball before he shakes his head, the shaggy hair flopping from side to side, as he finally turns around to face the computers.

  “You’ll see. We’ll get the bad guys and they won’t be able to hurt anyone else,” I say.

  “Ugh, that’s so cliche,” Blake says, a hint of a smile causing the dimple on his left cheek to emerge.

  I run my hand along the side of my neck, taking a small step back. I don’t know what it is about his smile—his authentic smile, but it coils inside my gut.

  “Yeah, well, it’s still the truth. And lucky me—I’ll get to show you I’m not just a charlatan.”

  Blake takes a breath and exhales deeply.

  “I don’t know if proof will make me feel better or worse,” he says.

  “Only one way to find out, I guess,” I say, smirking.

  “Okay, I have a couple of flight options, but it doesn’t look like there are any direct flights happening in the next week,” Aiden says.

  “What are the options?” I ask, turning to him.

  “Do you want cheapest? Or fastest?”

  “Fastest,” I say with a nod.

  “Cheapest,” Blake says at the same time.

  “Fastest,” I say, punctuating the end of the word and eyeing him from beneath my eyebrows.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Aiden says, twisting back to the screen. “The fastest has two stops. One in Atlanta, then another in Paris. You’re looking at nearly a sixteen-hour flight time with the layovers.”

  “Okay, let’s do it. What do you need from me?”

  “Just your card,” Aiden says, making a face.

  “Sure, let me grab my purse from the car.”

  I walk out, past Blake, whose face is as pale as the entry way walls.

  Trotting to my car, I grab my tiny purse and head back inside. Part of me is excited for this adventure. It’s been years since I was in Europe, let alone Italy or the area near there.

  When I get back to the room, I take a seat, and open my purse.

  “Here you go,” I say, handing Aiden my debit card.

  If there’s one thing that matters least to me, it’s money. With thousands of years of accumulation—I have far more than any one person ever needs. Even an immortal one.

  Aiden takes the card, eyeing it suspiciously.

  “You know this is your debit card, right?”

  I raise an eyebrow and stare at him unblinkingly.

  “Mkay,” he says, turning back to the screens.

  Blake crosses his arms and starts pacing the room.

  With incredible ease, Aiden’s fingertips fly across the keyboard.

  “Okay, last chance to back out,” he says, his pointer finger hovering over the enter button.

  “I’m good,” I say, shrugging.

  “You both have passports, right?”

  “Yes,” we say in unison.

  “Good,” Aiden says. His finger taps down, effectively booking our flight. “Your flight leaves tomorrow at eleven—but you need to be at the airport by nine.”

  “Aiden, use my card to book the hotel and car, would you?” Blake says, reaching for the back of Aiden’s chair.

  “Where do you want to stay?”

  “Anyplace centrally located. Find the ring’s last known location—or track any potential haunts. If we need to move around, we will—but it will be nice to have a hub to start with.”

  “Got it,” Aiden says, nodding and handing me back my card.

  I put it back into my wallet, just as Blake taps my arm.

  “Can I speak with you for a moment?” he says, tipping his head to the door.

  “Sure.”

  “We’ll be right back,” Blake calls out.

  Aiden lifts his hand, giving a thumbs up.

  “Oh, and you’ll want to let Interpol know about the men,” I say, speaking over my shoulder at Aiden. “They’ll want to know what’s going down—especially if they can help. More than likely, they have a team on the case already, so we wouldn’t want to step on any toes.”

  Aiden nods, “Sure thing.”

  “How do you know so much about Interpol?” Blake asks, as we enter the hallway.

  “Uh—watched a lot of movies?” I say, grinning.

  He shakes his head.

  “Alright, so we don’t have much time. I’m going to get packed and swing by Ted and Lacy’s house to see if they’ve been able to glean any more information from Esther—and check in on them. I’ll pick you up tomorrow about 8:30am. Sound good?”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?” I say, cocking my head to the side.

  “Not at all. I just figured you’ll want to talk to your assistant about your absence and get packed yourself.”

  Ugh. I totally hadn’t given any thought to how this would affect Ren. He’s going to flip a lid. I’m sure he had no idea helping on this case would actually mean leaving the country.

  “Yeah, okay. Good point,” I nod. “Good luck with Ted and Lacy.”

  “Thanks,” he says, his eyes searching mine for a moment. He opens his mouth, then closes it again; his tongue briefly sweeping across his lower lip. It’s a somewhat distracting motion—and I have to look away to break free from its intensity.

  “Hey Aiden,” I call, “thanks for your help. See you when we get back.”

  Aiden’s head pops into the hallway. He eyes the two of us, standing less than a foot apart, then extends his arm into the hall. My purse dangles from his wrist.

  “Don’t forget your purse … and no problem, Diana. Wish I could go, too, but I don’t think my professors would understand. Or my bank account,” he chuckles.

  “At least you have our backs from here, right?” I say, smiling.

  “Always,” he says, with a single nod of agreement.

  Chapter 12

  RENALDO’S JAW slacks open, “You’re going where?”

  “Italy,” I say for the fourth time.

  “And why is that again?” his eyebrow arcs.

  “Oh, for Godsake, you already know why. Hell, you’re the one who practically pushed me into it.”

  Ren feigns surprise, his hand pressing delicately against his chest, “I most certainly did not. I said to show the man what you can do and help him with the case—but I most certainly didn’t say run halfway around the world with him. I mean, what am I meant to tell your clientele? A couple of days, I can handle. Sure. No problem. But an open-ended question mark without their favorite psychic? They’re gonna freak. Oh my God, what about Mrs. Kaminski?”

  His eyes widen and he fans himself.

  “What about her?” I chuckle under my breath.

  “Don’t you give me that, Diana Hawthorne. You know damn well if that woman doesn’t find a way to connect with her cat every damn week she’ll be haunting my stoop daily until she can. She smells like kitty litter and dawn dish soap. This is not a position I want to be put in.”

  “I’m sorry, Ren. I don’t know what to say. Unless we can find these guys quickly—and I’m hoping we can—we could end up being there a while. I don’t want to lie and say it will be quick. We’re not going all that way only to turn around empty handed. Who knows
where they are right now. It’s going to take us at least a day just to get our bearings. By that point, they could be in a different country, for all I know.”

  Renaldo shifts to his other foot and crosses his arms.

  I sigh, “Okay, look. If Mrs. Kaminski gives you any trouble, let me know. I can see if Blake will help me set up one of those computer telecommunication program thingies. What’s the one called? Snipe?”

  “Skype,” Ren says, running his hand over his face.

  “Yeah, yeah, that’s what I meant. That way, I can still do a reading for her if she gets out of control. Sound good?”

  “Oh my God, yes. Bless you,” Ren says, breathlessly as he drops his hands and grabs hold of both my arms.

  My back goes rigid and I glance down at his hands. Too many images of him arguing with Brody flood my mind, mixed with long nights holding hands and making up.

  He smiles awkwardly, then pretends to brush something off my sleeve, before letting go altogether.

  “Great. Now that’s settled. I do have to discuss the matter of payroll…” I begin.

  “Oh, here we go,” Renaldo says, taking a step back.

  “Don’t worry. It’s no big deal. I’m going to be shooting you cash while I’m gone. But since I’m not here to look over time cards and whatnot—you’ll have to take what you get. It’ll be comparable to what your typical week is, though. We can work out any overages or shortfalls when I get back.”

  Heaving a big sigh, Renaldo nods. “Works for me. For a moment there, I thought you were going to expect me to do all this from the goodness of my little black heart.”

  “No—but I do expect you to be on time. Every day. We have to keep up the shop—especially with me gone. So, step up your game and make this place a hub for … what did you call them? Lust bunnies?”

  I can’t help but chuckle. Renaldo does come up with the best names. He really does.

  “Can you remind me what you consider … on time?” Ren says, shooting me a sideways glance.

  “C’mon, man. We’ve been over this a bazillion times. 8am sharp. You need time to prep the shop before you open at nine. Feel free to open the doors early, if you’re ready.”

  “Really? Eight in the morning? Has it always been that early?” he says, scrunching his nose.